"I'll leave you two then, but I'll be back in ten minutes to walk you out."
"Yes, sir," I said with a deep voice. I decided against the military salute.
He shook his head as he walked out, the large metal door shutting solidly behind him.
Lacey and I pulled on gloves and I opened the box. The bag with Minnie's colorful blouse was right on top. I pulled it out and stepped out of the way for the expert to do her thing. It was fascinating to watch.
"The blouse is the best piece of clothing to examine. The scents from her entire day will be clinging to the fabric." Lacey carefully pulled the garment from the bag and laid it flat on the table as if she was about to iron it. She leaned forward and her twitchy little nose got to work. I remained a silent observer so as not to interrupt her concentration.
After several minutes, paying extra attention to the long trumpet sleeves and the area around the collar, Lacey straightened with a sigh. "It's still the camphor, and on closer inspection, it seems the camphor might be mixed with some lavender oil. Sage and a hint of patchouli and a few of the other more popular incense fragrances are mingled together along the entire fabric. Those make sense considering the air in her shop was heavy with those scents. But I just don't get the camphor." She turned to me. "I think that's our clue. I'm just not sure how to use it."
"No, it doesn't make much sense. And you didn't smell any in Wanda's house?" I asked.
"Not a trace and like cigar smoke, it's one of those odors I don't need a lot of to smell."
I pointed at her. "Cigar smoke. Would you be able to smell cigar smoke on her blouse if the murderer had been smoking one?"
Her eyes rounded with comprehension. "You're right. How could I forget Roland and his stinky cigar? If he held a pillow over her face, then traces of his cigar would be on her blouse." She spun around and returned to her task. After a few silent minutes, she pulled her nose from the fabric. "I don't smell even a trace of it."
"Interesting." I helped Lacey fold the blouse up and slide it back into the evidence bag. "Of course, that doesn't completely exonerate Roland. It's possible he was wearing newly laundered clothes and he hadn't smoked a cigar before he killed Minnie."
"True," Lacey said with a hint of skepticism. "However, in general, avid smokers—I think we can assume Roland falls into that category—people who smoke habitually are surrounded by the scent of their tobacco. It permeates their cars, their furniture, their outwear like coats and hats. It's one of those habits that sort of just follows you wherever you go."
"So even if Roland had just showered and dressed in freshly laundered clothes, you would probably still be able to catch the scent of cigar on Minnie's blouse?"
"Only if and there's the big if in this whole thing— only if Roland came into physical contact with Minnie's blouse. Since we don't know exactly how she was killed and assuming it was a pillow, it's possible he could have suffocated her with no contact other than his hands on the pillow. Too bad they haven't found the pillow used in the murder."
"That sure would make our task easier," I said. "Why don't we head back to Minnie's shop. I'll see if I can pretty please my way into getting the keys from Jackson. Maybe there's a clue we've been missing."
"Maybe it's been right under our noses," Lacey quipped.
We both laughed at the impossibility of something being skipped over right under Lacey's super nose.
Chapter 31
Jackson didn't even put up a fuss about giving us the keys to Minnie's shop. At first, I figured I'd just worn him down enough on our visit to the evidence room that he didn't have the energy to fight with me on the next request, but, in passing, he muttered something about the team needing all the help they could get.
Lacey searched high and low for the source of the camphor smell on Minnie's blouse but to no avail. We stepped outside and fiddled for a few seconds with the lock. The neighboring shop, Jarrett's Office Supplies, was closed, but a man, an older man with a thick head of gray hair and wire-rimmed glasses was hosing off the sidewalk in front of the store. He politely turned off the hose when he saw us heading his direction.
"I thought Minnie's shop was closed." His face fell some. "Probably for good. Such a shame." He clucked his tongue.
Lacey whispered from the side of her mouth. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"
"If it's that neighbors always have the best info, then yep."
"Like you pulled it right out of my thoughts." Lacey pressed on her radiant smile and walked toward the man. I pulled up right alongside her.
"It's just terrible about Minnie, isn't it?" Lacey stuck out her hand. "Lacey Pinkerton, nice to meet you."
The man was somewhat startled by the exuberant introduction. He still gripped the hose but moved it to his left hand. He wiped the water off his right hand and shook Lacey's. "Mason Jarrett, this is my office supply store. Minnie and I have been shop neighbors for a long time. Still can't believe I won't be seeing her walk in that door anymore." He squinted suspiciously. "Are you two trying to buy the place?"
"Yes, we're considering it. As you know, Minnie was going out of business. The realtor lent us a key so we could take a quick peek around, see if it fits our needs." I decided to take a different than usual route.
"Really? What kind of business do you run?" he asked.
"Pet store," I blurted just as Lacey said "Florist."
I smiled. "It's sort of a plant and pet combo thing," I added lamely. "It sure is a shame about Minnie though. We've heard it might have been foul play. Did you notice anything strange? Were there any people milling about, people who didn't normally visit her shop?"
Mason snorted. "I'll say." He moved closer. Lacey and I were happy to scoot our feet forward for what looked like a good scoop.
"Oh?" Lacey prodded.
Mason glanced around even though the sidewalk was empty. "For the past few weeks, a customer who seemed a little odd, dressed in a long coat and a big, floppy brown hat, visited Minnie every day at three o'clock. I know that because that is the time the mailman gets to my shop. I wait by the door to help him in with packages. That big hat and coat hid the person so well, I couldn't tell you if it was a man or woman. I'm thinking man because the person was quite tall, at least for a woman. I might not have noticed the person at all except it always seemed as if the hat and coat were meant to be a disguise."
"So they went out of their way to not be noticed but looked so out of place they were super noticeable," Lacey said.
"Exactly." Mason paused for a moment to smile at Lacey. It seemed, just like my ghost, he was instantly taken with her. She had that kind of presence.
"Have you seen the person lately? Have they come by the shop only to find it was closed?" I asked.
"That's what makes the whole thing even more suspicious. The person stopped by every day for three weeks right at three o'clock. I kept an eye, just because I was curious. I wasn't trying to be nosy. I mean, I was a little worried about Minnie, to tell the truth. Something about that person just didn't seem right."
"You were just being a good neighbor," Lacey added.
"Yes, that's it," Mason's blue-gray eyes sparkled with admiration at Lacey. It was hard to tell if Lacey even noticed he was instantly smitten. Maybe it happened to her so often, it slipped right by her. "Anyhow, last Thursday," Mason stated succinctly. "That was the last time I saw the person with the big floppy hat. The next day Minnie was dead. Seems connected, don't you think? I mentioned it to the police when they were here but since I couldn't identify the person, they just took down a description and that was the end of it."
"It does seem like a significant piece of information." I fished in my purse for keys. "Well, it's been nice talking to you, Mason." We continued toward the jeep.
"Are you gonna take it?" he called. We looked back. He was wearing a big smile. "It'd be nice to have ya both as neighbors. I like plants and pets."
I nodded. "We're going to have to give it some thought, Mr. Jarrett. Have a nice rest
of the day."
We climbed into the jeep and looked at each other. "Grace's big, floppy hat," we said in perfect unison.
"That puts a new spin on things, doesn't it?" Lacey asked.
I pushed the key into the ignition. "It sure does."
Chapter 32
Once again, Lacey and I found ourselves driving under the tunnel of fragrant junipers to Etta Derricot's stately mansion. We weren't too sure how they would receive us, especially if Etta had already been questioned by the police. We needed to talk to Grace so we decided to just continue with our previous guise of two reporters looking for nice stories about Minnie. Etta could hardly say no to a newspaper tribute to her deceased sister without it seeming suspicious.
The jeep tires crossed the herringbone brick as I pulled onto the circular driveway in front of the mansion. Lacey and I were both more than surprised to find Etta Derricot, dressed in trousers, khaki blouse and straw hat, planting a row of purple and yellow pansies in a blank spot near the front steps. She was on her knees, bending forward and vigorously digging holes in the earth. Princess, Etta's gray cat, was lounging on the top porch step, soaking up the intermittent sun as it poked through the clouds.
I looked over at Lacey. I was sure my expression mirrored hers.
"Maybe she's feeling better? Arthritis comes and goes, or at least that was what my grandfather used to say," Lacey suggested.
"That's true. I think weather plays a part. Let's hope since her joints are feeling better, she'll be happy to see us."
We climbed out of the jeep. The doors slamming shut pulled Etta's attention away from the pansies. She spun around and lifted her chin to see past the brim of her straw hat. Her mouth, about the only portion of her face we could see under the shade of the hat, pulled down into an obvious frown.
"Guess I'll rule out happy to see us," I muttered as we headed along the path to the front steps.
"I think I've said just about all I can say about my sister. As I mentioned, we were distant in the past few years." Etta pushed to her feet rather easily considering not just arthritis but her age.
"Afternoon," I said brightly despite her sour face. I forged ahead. "Thanks again for your input on the article. It's coming along nicely."
That statement wiped a bit of the sour away. "Well, that's good to hear. Minnie deserves a nice tribute. What brings you back here?"
"We were hoping to get a little more input. We thought we might interview your assistant, Grace. See if she has anything to add to the article."
"They hardly knew each other, although Grace was working for me way back when Minnie and I were still talking. My sister would drop by for tea and cookies a few times a week." A breeze nearly picked up and took off with her hat. She patted it lower on her head. "Grace is rather busy. She does the laundry on Mondays." Etta looked more than hesitant to let us go inside and interrupt Grace's work day.
"We promise to take no more than ten minutes of her time. We're just trying to get a wide swath of friends and family to do the story justice," I said.
"I suppose it will be all right. The front door is open. If you turn right at the first hallway and continue to the end you'll find her in the laundry room. But ten minutes only, please."
I lifted my phone. "I'll keep a close eye on the time."
Etta readjusted her hat and moved to sit on her kneeling pad again.
"You're lucky," Lacey said unexpectedly. "My cat won't leave me alone when I'm in the garden. He has to rub himself all around me. Sometimes he even falls asleep on the knee pad, leaving me to kneel on the dirt." We all looked toward the gray cat that had woken from its nap long enough to lick a paw.
"Yes, well, Princess isn't very affectionate. She prefers to be on her own." Some of the sour had returned to her expression.
"Yes, they are all so different, aren't they?" Lacey said lightly. "Well, we won't keep you from your pansies."
Lacey and I climbed the front steps. She made a point of stopping to rub Princess behind the ear. The cat instantly purred and rubbed its head against her hand. "Huh, she seems pretty affectionate to me," Lacey muttered.
We stopped at the front door and turned to each other. It seemed all sorts of ideas were forming in our heads, but all of them were a little too fresh and dubious to say out loud.
Chapter 33
The front door was unlocked, just as Etta had mentioned. Lacey and I walked through the magnificent entry toward the first hall on the right. Lacey stopped just a few steps after we turned down the hallway.
Her nose twitched side to side. "Patchouli incense. It's faint but I can smell it." We continued on toward the smell of laundry soap. Etta's laundry room was bigger than most people's kitchens. Two somewhat old fashioned looking machines, a washer and dryer, sat against one wall. The opposite side held wire racks for air drying and a set of shelves that contained all the products one might need in a laundry room. A basket of still to be laundered clothes sat on a table at the entrance. It seemed to contain mostly blouses and sweaters. At the flea market, Etta was dressed in outdated ladies' wear, a skirt and blouse, the clothes women in the fifties wore every day, even during chores.
Grace hadn't heard our footsteps. She was pouring a scoop of detergent into the washer.
I cleared my throat and knocked lightly on the doorway. Grace spun around, sending a few flakes of soap onto the laundry room floor. "You startled me. What are you doing here?"
"So sorry. We didn't mean to sneak up on you." I stepped into the room. Lacey followed behind but she stopped near the basket of laundry.
"Does Mrs. Derricot know you are in the house?" She pulled the metal washer door down with a clang.
"Yes, we saw her out front," I said. "She's planting pansies. I guess she's feeling better."
Grace put the box of soap on the shelf above the washer. "I don't know what you're talking about. She hasn't been sick."
"I just meant, you know, the arthritis."
Grace's face snapped toward me with an aggravated scowl. "As you can see, I'm quite busy. What is it that you need from me?"
I pulled out my notebook to back up my story. "We are just looking for a few more comments from people who knew Minnie Smithers so we can put the finishing touches on our story. After we left you at the flea market, we realized we missed an opportunity to get some fun comments about Minnie."
She made a dismissive sound with her mouth. "I hardly knew Etta's sister. They were still talking when I started working for Mrs. Derricot and she came to visit occasionally. But we barely spoke. She was a pleasant enough woman with a good sense of humor."
I wrote her comment down. "But what about when you visited her at the magic shop?"
My question could have come with a giant explosion considering her reaction. She braced a hand on the washer as if she'd been knocked temporarily off balance. Her nostrils widened and she took a deep breath, then seemed to gain her composure. "What on earth would I be doing in a Wiccan shop? I assure you, I've never visited Minnie's shop."
I nodded. "My mistake. We thought we smelled some incense in the hallway and figured it came from her shop."
This comment rattled her but not nearly as badly as my question. She recovered much faster. "Mrs. Derricot likes to burn incense. Not for any magic purposes or any of that mumbo jumbo, but this big old house can smell like mildew from time to time."
"Yes, I can see that." I flicked my gaze back toward Lacey. She was leaning close to the basket of laundry.
"What's this interesting smell?" Lacey straightened. "Reminds of me of moth balls or camphor."
This time I was the one to react as if someone had just lobbed a lit stick of dynamite my way.
"Oh, that." Grace took a second to scrutinize Lacey from head to toe as if she had just noticed her standing there. "You have quite the sense of smell. That is camphor. As you apparently already know," she said with a huff, "Mrs. Derricot suffers from arthritis. I formulated a salve with camphor and lavender. It doesn't take away the pain compl
etely but it helps. Unfortunately, as you pointed out, camphor has an intrusive odor. I usually wash everything twice to get rid of the scent."
Lacey nodded. "That's great you've managed to come up with something that eases her pain. I suppose she was feeling extra well today since I didn't smell any of the salve when we spoke to Mrs. Derricot just now." She tapped her nose. "As you pointed out, I have quite the sense of smell."
I had a new idol in the world and her name was Lacey Pinkerton. She once again threw Grace off balance with her comment. I marveled at how she did it with such sneaky ease.
Grace walked swiftly to the table and took hold of the basket of clothes. A sparkle on her wrist caught my attention. It was a glittering diamond tennis bracelet. I was no jewelry expert but it didn't look cheap or like quartz crystals. Lacey noticed it too. It was hard not to since it wasn't the kind of bauble one normally wore to do laundry.
"I need to get to work. As I said, I hardly knew Minnie Smithers, so I don't have anything to add to your story."
"Of course, we'll let you get back to your laundry. Beautiful tennis bracelet, by the way," I added.
She didn't respond to the compliment.
"We'll see ourselves out," I said. "Thank you."
Etta had moved to the other side of the porch steps with her flats of pansies. She moved with all the alacrity of a strong, young woman not like an older woman plagued by arthritis.
She sat back on her knees. Her hat brim lifted at the sound of our footsteps. "That was fast. I told you Grace wouldn't have much to add."
"Yes, sorry to have bothered you with it," I said.
"When can we expect the article?" she asked. "I'm looking forward to reading the nice tribute to my sister."
"It should be in next Monday's edition." Naturally, the story would focus mostly on the murder of Minnie Smithers with a few nuggets about her contribution to the community thrown in. "Speaking of tribute," I said, "I know you mentioned cremation but will there be a memorial? I could put an announcement in the paper."
Double Trouble Page 15
